


The Blitz

by VisualStain



Series: Creative Writing Challenges [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: A lovely bit of angst, Growing Up, Starts with WWII and goes to Korea, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-19 00:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14224959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisualStain/pseuds/VisualStain
Summary: Based on the prompt: Three children are sitting on a log near a stream. One of them looks at the sky and says...





	The Blitz

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy it's been a while! I've been working on other stuff since I last posted (including the first draft of my first book!!!), so I haven't had as much time to work on short stories or one-shots. This is going to be a massive dump of stories from my Creative Writing Club, starting with one of my favourites, so sit back and enjoy!

“Look up there! That’s such a huge plane!” The other kids around him looks up at the sky as well. Shock and awe were littered across their faces.

“There’s no way that’s a plane up there, mate. It’s too bloody big!” The girl dismissed the little boy’s claims. Her face was covered in soot, and her clothes were tattered and dirty. The last little boy looked at the plane and shook his head.

“Uh-uh. That’s definitely a plane. Although I don’t quite blame you for not recognizing it. You are a girl after all.” He immediately recoiled in pain when she slapped him on the top of his head.

“Oi! What was that for,” he asked and the girl huffed and turned the other way. The two boys exchanged a look with each other, before grinning and breaking out into laughter. The girl’s sulk quickly shifted to laughter as well. She was no match for the laughter of her only friends. Dirt drifted off of their clothing as they shook.

They sat in silence for as long as children could; enjoying the sounds of the babbling brook and the chirping of nearby birds. Each kid leaned back on the log, reveling in the way that the furrowed bark dug slightly into the skin of their palms. They looked up at the blue sky and watched the clouds pass them by. It was peaceful.

A loud boom and crash invaded the calm atmosphere. The kids fell backwards onto the solid ground behind them. Everything was quiet for a moment. The birds stopped chirping. The roar of fire from the nearby city started up soon after, and more booms sounded. The kids held their hands over their ears to shield themselves from the harsh blasts. The girl was the first one to sit back up. She looked towards the city, her beautiful city. The girl couldn’t restrain her sob.

When he companions sat back up they noticed what had made their friend start to bawl. Beautiful London town was burning, falling down. They sat in shock, as more of those large planes from earlier continued to fly over head; continued to drop large parcels onto the burning buildings. The sky darkened from the smoke emanating from the once lovely city. The children could have sworn they heard faint screams floating across the wind.

Sirens sounded and the children were filled with dread as their worst fears were confirmed. The sound of those sirens was ingrained upon them for as long as this war had been going. Those sirens were the trumpet signalling their doomsday. Those sirens heralded in the destruction of their beloved London. Those sirens warned of the Nazis.

Sure enough, a large blimp menacingly stalked towards London. As it passed over the three children's heads they saw the dreaded symbol. The harsh black lines, the white circle, and the red flag. The Nazi insignia. The children’s tears fell down their face faster at the sight of the monsters that tore apart everything in their path.

They watched the destruction with clenched fists. Tears still streamed down their faces but their eyes hardened. The fires of their dear London reflected in their eyes.

“We can’t just sit here and do nothing, you bloody cowards!” The girl yelled, standing up quickly. She started walking away from the stream.

“Where are you going?” One of her friends asked, voice shaking.

“To try and do what’s right.”

She ran off without another word and one of the boys followed soon after. Only the last boy was left, the one who had noticed the plane to begin with. He stayed sitting on the log, watching his friends run off without him.

 

They always did call him a coward.

 

The war ended. They were free. There was a bitter taste in the boy’s mouth.

 

He helped to clean up rubble. He recognized chimneys that he and his friends used to clean together. He felt sick. He wanted to go home. He stayed.

 

It was months later before he recognized the pictures of their faces on the unidentified bodies board. He turned his face away and felt hot tears streak across his dirty face. He never helped the doctors identify the bodies.

 

They called what had happened the London Blitz. Those who had survived and helped in the rebuilding effort were called heroes by the outside world. He didn’t feel so heroic.

 

He put their names on the dogtags they gave him. He wanted to honour their memory. Before he had no last name, now he had two.

 

He was nineteen now, no longer the small, afraid boy he once was. He was being shipped off to Korea to fight in their war. He could faintly hear a girl’s voice call him a coward as he shook when he took his first life.

 

When a soldier’s head was blown off right next to him he heard a boy’s voice tell him that everything would be alright.

 

When he was shot by a North Korean soldier right in the abdomen, he laid on the ground and watched the world fade. He could hear a boy and a girl talking to him, ushering him through.  _ It’ll be better soon, _ the girl said.  _ Once you’re here we can play together again _ , the boy said. He smiled.

 

He didn’t survive the war.


End file.
